Blinded By The Light 2: A Sequel
by Invaderk
Summary: [RWHG] Sequel to Blinded By The Light. Ron's new life with Hermione. Ron will accept a proposition to a major breakthrough. If he can live to tell about it, of course.
1. Early Morning

Disclaimer: i own nothing

People often felt that there was something unknown and strange about the people that lived in the house on 36 Sterling Drive. All they knew for sure was that a young couple lived there; a young woman and a young man. The woman worked at home, and the man didn't work at all, as far as they could tell. They were a handsome couple, and could sometimes be seen strolling down the street, hands locked, talking nonchalantly about the weather, or some sport. Sometimes, the man could be seen walking alone down the street, sunglasses on and hands in his pockets, more often then not whistling to himself.

This would not seem at all strange, had the young man not been blind.

The young man was a handsome, cheerful- looking fellow, and anybody that tried to strike up a conversation with him would not be disappointed. He was charming, slightly clumsy, and had an almost lazy air about him. However, his strange sense of knowing what was going on in the world of vision was slightly unnerving, and people tended keep a distance. This young man, also known as Ron Weasley, was in his bedroom, reading a book.

In fact, it was his slight laugh that caused Hermione Granger to put down her pencil and investigate what he was doing. Hermione worked at home, for she was a writer of spellbooks, and a good one at that. She stepped into their bedroom and Ron looked up from his book, his blue, unseeing eyes full of emotion.

"How's it going?" she said, resting against the doorway.

"Brilliant, just brilliant," Ron replied, trying (and failing) to sound as if he wasn't enjoying himself, "you've actually got me hooked, Hermione, you've actually got me hooked on a novel."

"Novel," Hermione sniffed indignantly, "For crying out loud, Ronald, it's a Chudley Cannons book! Let me see it for a sec."

He held it out to her and she took it from him. She opened the bright orange book and ran her hand along it's pages. Tiny bumps, Braille, formed a plot and took the place of words. She nodded.

"Interesting…" she said, and Ron knew that she was lying.

Hermione was never one for Quidditch, even though she tried to get into it. The most she had ever enjoyed Quidditch was in their fourth year, at the world cup.

Ron laughed, "Gimme that," and he put the book on his bedside table.

He looked at her awkwardly; he had been charmed so that he could make out faint blurs of people, which is also how he was able to get around by himself. He needed no walking stick, no guide-dog. He had magic.

"What?" Hermione asked, knowing all too well the look he was giving her.

"I never thought I would say it, but I want to have a job; I want to do something with my life. I think I wanna be a professor."

"You think so?" Hermione said, "Why?"

"Why a professor?" Ron said, "Probably because they don't have to do a lot of work, and they get to boss people around."

Hermione sighed in exasperation.

"Ron! Being a professor is a lot of work! People's educations are in your hands!"

Ron lay down and faced the wall.

"I still want to teach," he said, "but I don't know how I'm supposed to get the training and all that rubbish."

Hermione smiled.

"I do. I have a couple connections at Hogwarts, and I'll see what I can do for you. But you also have an appointment today, so you should probably get up and get moving. I have your clothes on the chair."

Ron grumbled a thank you, and grudgingly got out of bed. Hermione left him to his morning ritual. Every morning, Hermione would pick out his clothes and put them on a chair. The two of them had everything set up so that Ron could navigate through the house and know where everything is. Hermione stepped into her library and looked around.

Books were everywhere; on top of shelves, on desks, on the floor; and of course on bookshelves. Some were normal books, others were Braille. Novels, spellbooks, potion-books, short-stories – everything you could imagine. A few of them, she had written herself, but most of them had been purchased. Hermione busied herself with her work until Ron appeared fully dressed, in the room, his hair a mess. Hermione giggled.

"Blimey!" Ron exclaimed, "That water was effing cold!"

Hermione got up and smoothed Ron's hair down with one hand, and kissed him softly.

"Then why didn't you turn up the heat a little?"

"Because I dropped my damn wand, that's why!" He replied defensively.

"A simple _accio_ would have solved that problem, Ronald," Hermione said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Ron's featured darkened and he sulked; he had always been a little sensitive about certain things.

"How come you have the buckets of brainpower?" Ron asked, scowling and swinging his left foot an inch off the ground.

Hermione stifled a laugh, but there was no reason to keep from smiling – he couldn't see her expression.

"So I can help you find your wand, that's why." She replied smartly.

Ron couldn't suppress a shy smile.

"Yeah, but now I'm bloody freezing to death." He said in an undertone.

Hermione took his hand and led him towards their room.

"What're you doing?" Ron asked as she pulled him along.

"Warming you up," Hermione replied, and Ron tripped.

Hermione giggled and closed the door behind her; they had some time before they had to leave anyway.

-------------------------------------------------------------

A/N – end of chapter one! What will happen at the doctor's office? Will Ron get to be a professor? Find out soon!

Reviews are much appreciated. Thanks:)

-Dayrunner


	2. A Cure? A Choice

Disclaimer: I Love Harry Potter, but alas, his heart (as well as everything else)belongs to J.K.Rowling... hah

Happy Reading!

* * *

"Ronald Weasley! Healer Thomas will see you now!" the secretary announced in a dull, nasal voice.

"Come on Ron," Hermione said, getting up and taking Ron's hand.

Ron had previously been listening to the man sitting across the room, who had evidently switched voice boxes with a parrot.

"Yeah," he mumbled, getting up and following Hermione, "I just wish I could see him, too."

Hermione and Ron walked into the Healer's office, and sat down; Ron on the examination table, Hermione in the chair. Healer Thomas came in with a clipboard and greeted both of them.

"How are you, Ron?" Dean Thomas asked, stretching out his hand.

Ron shook it and mumbled that he was fine.

"Look, Ron, I have some interesting news for you," Dean said, flipping through the pages of his clip board, "It appears that a study is being held on blindness, and a cure is being sought more fiercely than ever before. They say they have a good lead."

Ron sat more upright in his chair and paid attention.

"And furthermore," Dean continued in his professional tone, "they need people to test the potion. You know, to make sure it works. The only problem is, as with all new potions, you never know how they will turn out before they're done. It could be dangerous – deadly, even – but if you're willing to do it, it might work."

Hermione glanced nervously at Ron, who seemed to be deep in thought.

"Well," he said, "I sure would like to see again…"

Hermione stood up.

"Ron! We have to talk about this first before you go making any rash decisions." She said harshly, and Ron stood up.

"This is not your choice, Hermione! It's mine!"

Hermione looked over at Dean, who glanced at his watch.

"I'll just step out for a few minutes so you can talk it over," Dean said, leaving the room and closing the door.

Hermione turned to Ron, fuming.

"Ron! How could you even consider accepting this? You heard Dean; you could _die_!"

Ron stood up straight and jabbed her collarbone with his finger.

"Who are you to tell me what to do with my life?" he said angrily in reply, "You don't know what it's like! You've never had to live like this! It's horrible; nothing you could imagine!"

Hermione backed off a step, hurt.

"Ron, I –"

"No! Listen to me! I have to do it! It's my only chance!"

Ron quieted and sat down, looking defeated.

"It's my only chance," he said, frowning, "I hate living like this, I really do. I'd give half the bloody earth to see again."

"Ron, I just –"

"I can't stand not seeing you, Hermione. It's been a long time, and I miss you. I miss your smile, and your eyes. Even when we – you know…"

Ron couched uncomfortably and blushed.

"When we… make love… I wish I could see you." He said, looking up at her.

"And, I hate these damn glasses!" he said, whipping off his sunglasses and throwing them under the table."

"Ron, I understand," Hermione said quietly.

"You do?"

"Yes," she answered, standing up and hugging him, "I just don't want to lose you… I love you too much."

Ron stood up and looked at her oddly – she had never said that before.

"Y- you do?" He asked.

Hermione got up and hugged Ron tightly.

"Yes, Ron, I do. I love you."

He sighed.

"Hermione," he said, rocking her back and fourth in his embrace, "I love you, too, but this is my choice. I need to do this; for me _and_ you."

Hermione looked up at him and smiled in a defeated way.

"Alright," She said, "Okay."

As she turned to get Dean, Hermione only hoped the potion-maker was intelligent.

* * *

A/N: End of chapter 2 - hope you all liked it!


	3. Who, Make, and Take

A/N: A special thanks to Avenell for knocking some sense into me.

Disclaimer: I own nothing - especially not Harry Potter.

Happy Reading!

* * *

Hermione went to bed that night feeling overwhelmed with worry. What would happen, should the potion fail? Could she possibly manage life without him there, blind or not? She didn't know. Hermione watched Ron sleep next to her and sighed sadly. He was certainly a sight when he was asleep; he was carefree, and it did not matter whether he could see or not. Ron had been right, of course; it was his choice. But still, Hermione felt that she needed to do something about it – to get informed.

Hermione, realizing that she was far from sleep, got up and stretched. It was early in the morning – probably around one o' clock. She slumped into the kitchen and poured herself some hot chocolate, and then sat down at the table. Floo-ing Dean seemed to be the best idea, but it would have to wait until it was a respectable time to call, and Ron had to be out of the house. For some reason, Hermione suspected that Ron would not like her sticking her nose in his business – but she had to know. First off, she wanted to know who would be doing the testing, and also what components were necessary to make and take the potion.

"Right," she mumbled to herself quietly as she sipped her chocolate, "Who, make, and take."

She took out a notebook and pen, and began to write notes to herself on the subject. On the top line, in bold letters, she wrote: **Ron's Therapy**. Then, she proceeded to write everything she knew on the subject, and was not satisfied until she had every detail down. Nobody was going to take Ron Weasley from her; not if she could help it.

The next morning, Ron awoke to the sound of sizzling bacon coming from the kitchen. The smell reached his highly sensitive nose, and he nearly jumped out of bed to go and get some.

"G'morning," Hermione greeted Ron with a kiss as he strolled into the kitchen, "Harry owled, and he wants you to stop by his place today."

Ron didn't know that Hermione had gotten up early to floo Harry, and make sure that Ron would be busy for a while.

"Any reason?" Ron asked, interested.

"Actually," Hermione said, handing Ron a piece of hot bacon, "Harry's going to introduce you to the Transfiguration teacher, and they're going to see if they can get you a job."

Ron choked and coughed, spraying bacon everywhere. Hermione cleaned it up with a wave of her wand.

"Really?" Ron asked, gasping, "You mean I'm going get trained?"

"Well," Hermione said slowly and matter-of-factly, "The professor is going to see if you can qualify for the job. It seems that the only available job is Potions…"

"Ahh…" Ron said quietly, "Well, then so be it. I can give it a shot. Personally, I would have preferred DADA, but the job's cursed."

"It's not cursed anymore, Ronald," Hermione said as Ron seated himself at the table and she brought him a plate, "Harry killed Voldemort, remember?"

"Actually, no, I don't," Ron replied icily, but Hermione did not take offense.

She knew that Ron was merely recalling that his memory had been modified during battle, and he was henceforth unable to remember anything about the battle.

"Hermione, how long have we been living together?" Ron asked in between bites of food.

"Three years tomorrow," Hermione replied, "Why?"

Ron shrugged and continued to shove food down his throat.

"I dunno. Just feels like a long time – forever, practically." Ron said, getting up and stretching.

Ron did a cleaning charm on his teeth and headed off for the bathroom, pausing to kiss Hermione.

Hermione could have sworn she heard him say, "Professor Ronald Weasley, if you please," as he closed the bathroom door, clothes in hand.

An hour later, Ron was at Harry's, and Hermione's plan was coming into action. She swept over to the fireplace and picked up a plain blue drawstring bag. She took a pinch of the powder from inside, and threw it into the fire, which turned a blinding green.

"St. Mungo's!" Hermione said clearly, and coughed as dust flew in her eyes.

Hermione spoke with the floo secretary, and she had Dean come to see her. She felt strangely vulnerable with her head sitting in the fireplace, but this was not the time to be concerned about such petty things.

"Hello Dean," she said hastily, and before he could answer, added, "I need information on this potion."

Dean nodded and left her for a moment, and when he returned, he had a packet in his hands.

"It is risky," he said reluctantly, "but think about it; if it works, Ron will be able to see and there will have been a breakthrough in magical history!"

"I don't care about being famous, Dean," Hermione replied waspishly, wiping the grin off Dean's face, "I just want to make sure he'll be safe, and in good hands."

"Oh, he'll be in good hands all right," Dean replied, tugging at his collar uncomfortably and coughing, "I just don't know if he'll mind."

Hermione cocked her head in the flames, and Dean replied, "You see, this potion's master, well, let's just say they never got along well."

"I can think of a dozen people that Ron never got along well with," Hermione replied, "But I'd like to read this through before I make any serious decisions, so can I have the packet for now?"

Dean nodded and put the packet of papers into Hermione's mouth, and she disappeared with a _pop_.

Hermione gagged as she withdrew from the fireplace, and took the packet from her mouth. The packet was pretty thick, like a small book. She immediately sat down in a chair and began to do the thing she did best – read. The packet was chock full of information, and Hermione was pleased at this. However, the procedure was very risky, as she read, and the potion very difficult. She held the papers close, her nose almost touching the parchment, her eyebrows furrowed. This potion was far more complicated than the polyjuice potion, for sure. She flipped through page after page, soaking in the information, and taking notes as well. Not only were the ingredients and steps for making the potion complicated, but the potion must also be taken at precisely the right moment, under the right conditions. Hermione ran a hand through her hair. The potion could only be taken at the full moon on the 31st of October, at precisely 9:11 P.M.

"Wow," she whispered to herself, "this is complicated."

Hermione finally reached the last page after an hour or so of reading, and the page contained information on the potions masters. Her eyes quickly skimmed the names, and then did a double take as the names sank in. Her stomach twisted slightly, and she let out a heavy breath.

"He's not going to like this, not one bit," she said warily, writing down the names in her notebook.

Ron stepped gracefully out of the fireplace and brushed off his robes. He 'looked' around, trying to find Hermione. He listened intently, and his refined hearing heard soft breathing coming from the couch. Ron felt his way over, and gently tapped Hermione on the shoulder.

"Huh?" Hermione said groggily, sitting up and rubbing her eyes.

"Taking a nap, I presume?" Ron said.

"What? Oh, yes," she replied, stretching and getting up, "I must have fallen asleep,"

Hermione picked up the notebook and packet and started off for the bedroom.

"What have you been up to?" Ron asked curiously, following Hermione.

"Oh, nothing. How was your interview?" she asked casually, dropping the packet and notebook on her side of the bed.

"Pretty good. Professor Jacobs just said I need some training, but I should be good for the job – are you okay, Hermione?" Ron said, cocking his head to the side.

"Yeah, I'm fine, why would you think otherwise?" Hermione asked.

"Your aura is pulsing, dear!" Ron said in a dreary voice that could have rivaled Trelawney's, "No, I'm kidding, you just sound disturbed."

Hermione winced; she did feel disturbed greatly by the packet, and felt slightly guilty at having messed around in Ron's personal business. She knew he didn't want her to worry, but she couldn't help herself; she never could. It was her duty to know as much as possible.

"Well, I'm fine," she said reassuringly, "I'm just kind of cold. I'm going to take a hot shower."

Ron clapped her on the shoulder and sighed. He turned and walked into the kitchen.

"I'll make dinner!" he said, as he accidentally walked into the wall.

"Ouch!"

Hermione giggled.

"Alright. Try not to burn or ruin everything!" she said, recalling the severely mutilated steaks that Ron had tried to prepare last time he had cooked.

With that last thought, she entered the bathroom and closed the door behind her.

After the sound of running water could be heard, Ron slipped back into the bedroom and closed the door. He felt around on the bed until his freckled hands came to rest upon the notebook that he had heard Hermione throw onto the bed. He flicked open the book and was not surprised to find that it was not written in Braille. Ron withdrew his wand and pointed it at the cover of the book.

"_Blindenschrift Totalus_."

A series of familiar dots began to cover the page, and Ron hastily began to read. He grunted with dissatisfaction at what he discovered. Hermione had been working on his project behind him – without him! Ron felt a plume of anger rush up from his abdomen, and he took a deep breath. He held it for a moment, and then let it out slowly.

"She's just trying to help; she doesn't want to jump into this." He told himself sternly, "She just wants to help."

Ron continued through the pages, but stopped before he reached the last page. He closed the book, frowned, and headed for the bathroom, where he could still hear the water running.

Ron opened the bathroom door, stepped into the foggy room, and the water instantly turned off. He could smell cinnamon and sugar body wash drifting from the cubicle and sending waves of dancing fumed up his nose. At the moment, however, Ron was not in the mood to dwell upon Hermione's scent. Hermione stepped out of the shower, not caring at all that Ron was standing there, watching her expectantly. Well, he was actually staring in the direction of the shower, but she had moved for a towel. Hermione hurried for a towel, not because she was afraid of Ron seeing her, because he obviously couldn't, but because the air was colder than she thought it would have been.

"We need to talk," Ron said, holding up the notebook and still facing the shower.

Hermione felt her insides tighten.

"Ron, look, before you get mad, let me explain," she replied, and Ron coughed, the turned to face her as if he had not been talking to the shower curtain.

He crossed his arms expectantly.

"I'm waiting."

Hermione rung her hands and began to dry herself.

"Well, Ron, you know how I am. I just needed to know, and I figured you wouldn't want me to worry… so I did some research behind your back. I'm sorry."

Ron, who had looked as if he wanted to yell, softened his features.

"It's all right," he said, "I suppose I understand. I should have known anyway that you'd try to figure out more."

Hermione gave a 'hmm' sound before dressing herself in the clothes she had laid out.

"Well, I probably should have gotten you involved, also. I suppose now that you've read the whole notebook, at least the potions master won't come as a surprise."

Ron's eyebrow arched.

"Potions master?" he said, a look of bewilderment on his face.

Hermione gave a startled cough.

"Oh! So you _didn't _read the whole thing! Last page, Ronald. But I'm warning you, you might not like it."

Ron had already flipped open the book and was reading intently. Slowly, his face turned from one of bewilderment to one of confusion, and finally to one of agony.

"Bloody hell, Hermione." He said vaguely, "I don't know if I can do this after all."

* * *

A/N: Ah, the joys of a good cliffie. Next chapter will be posted soon, I hope. I'll work on it, but i've got about a million other commitments to 'work on' as well.

Reviews are appreciated, good and 'constructive' or bad, if you must; i can take it


	4. The Potions Masters

A/N: It's sinful for me to have such a long gap between chapters. I'm so sorry everyone, but here you go.

Disclaimer: I own nothing... especially not Harry Potter

Happy Reading!

* * *

**Chapter Four: The Potions Masters**

Hermione led Ron over to the couch and sat him down; he looked petrified.

"I don't know if I can do this," he said again, and his voice was shaking, "They'll try to kill me! I know it!"

Hermione knelt down in front of him and cupped his face in her hands gently. She kissed him on the cheek.

"They're not going to kill you – they're trying to help you." she said soothingly, but Ron only scoffed.

"Yeah, help me right into my grave," Ron said, standing abruptly and almost knocking Hermione over.

She sighed and followed him into the library. Ron lay down on the couch, got up, and paced around.

"When do I get to meet them?" He asked sharply.

"Tomorrow," She replied, wringing her hands, "At the hospital. At nine."

"Morning or night?"

"Morning."

Ron grunted.

"Well, at least I don't have to wait," he said, sitting back down and sighing.

Hermione didn't move over to comfort him. In fact, she looked at tad bit nervous.

"You mean… you're still going to do it?" she asked, though she already knew what Ron's answer would be.

Ron clasped his hands behind his head and gave a sigh.

"Of course I am. I can't go on like this forever," he replied, his eyes on the ceiling, "Not being able to see is really not much fun. I take it you know this, by now?"

Hermione shrugged and said, "I do… but you know how I feel about it. This is really complicated, all of it, and dangerous."

"Blimey, I know it's dangerous, but it's worth it," Ron said, sighing again, "What I would give to play a nice game of Quidditch…"

His voice lingered and he closed his eyes. Hermione watched him for a minute, assumed he had fallen asleep or was wrapped up in his daydreams, and went about making dinner. She worked in silence, except for the occasional snore from the room over that told her Ron was in his favorite place – dreamland.

The next morning at seven, Hermione woke up Ron, who rolled out of bed unceremoniously. He ignored her attempts of getting him to stand up and pretended to be asleep. When he could no longer pretend to be asleep, he formed a new tactic.

"I feel ill, Hermione, I can't go today. Reschedule for another time, say… never. Yeah, that works for me."

Hermione placed her hands on her hips and sighed.

"Ron, please get up!" she pleaded, "We need to be there to meet them on time!"

"Oh bother," Ron said, grumpily standing up and yawning, "I can't believe I'm going to do this."

Hermione bit her lip nervously. She sighed and kissed him on the cheek, then pushed him off in the direction of the bathroom.

"Your clothes are on the couch," she said warily, and he slumped off with a grumpy look on his face.

When Ron appeared, he was looking incredibly overwhelmed. Twice he dropped his silverware at breakfast and accidentally poured himself a glass of marmalade instead of orange juice. Hermione rushed fourth to correct his mistake. When he was finally situated at the table, his breakfast utensils and food placed in a planned order that he knew without needing to see, his hands were shaking too badly to hold his toast. Hermione watched with a grave expression; Ron was acting like he was about to be condemned to death. He managed to eat his breakfast, but seemed to lack his usual appetite. He pushed his half-full plate away and placed his hands on his stomach.

"I am going to die," he said coldly, and Hermione jumped in her chair.

"No, you're going to be fine!" Hermione replied in what she hoped was a strong voice, "They probably don't even remember you, anyway. After all, it's been years since you last met."

Ron turned his head in the direction of Hermione, picked up his sunglasses, and put them on his face. He vanished his plate.

"Fat chance, Hermione," he said, "That's about as likely as Harry proposing to my sister."

Hermione laughed at this statement; Harry and Ginny had been together since the war ended, but he never was able to pluck up the courage to propose to her. He had tried several times, but always managed to get out of it somehow. Ginny had no idea, of course, but Hermione and Ron had been forced to listen to Harry as he moped around and complained that he was a coward.

"That's not so unlikely then, Ron," Hermione said in a warning voice, "Harry was almost able to do it lat Tuesday. Give it a week, and they'll be engaged."

Ron snorted into his orange juice, but became grave again rather quickly.

"Ahh, I guess we should go," he said, doing a quick cleaning charm on his teeth and standing up, "You are coming, right?"

"Of course!" Hermione replied, sounding offended, "I would never miss this… erm, interesting confrontation – _meeting_, I mean."

Ron sighed and without another word, apparated to the Healer Dean's office. Hermione followed suit.

Hermione appeared next to Ron, right outside the office. Dean was standing there with his clipboard. When he saw them arrive, he clapped Ron on the back and shook Hermione's hand.

"Ahh, here they are!" he said in a cheerful kind of way that Healers and doctors often spoke, "Good to see you! Your potions masters are right in here."

Ron set his jaw, adjusted his glasses, and pushed open the doors that lead into the office with Hermione and dean in hot pursuit.

The office was empty except for two people sitting in their chairs. One was older than the other, but both had looks of slight smugness on their faces. The younger man was tall and had white-blonde hair that came down just at his ears. His hands were on the arm rests of the chair, and he looked incredibly at ease with the world and the current situation. A superior, self-satisfied half-grin was etched across his pale face. The older man, on the other hand, was the opposite. He had long, greasy, shoulder-length black hair and a hooked nose, which he stared down at Ron and Hermione with black eyes. His look was smug, but he was not grinning at all, and his arms were crossed over his chest. Dean gave a little cough and spread his arms for the introduction.

"Ron and Hermione," he said, "I would like to re-introduce you to your potions masters, Professor Snape and his assistant, Professor Malfoy."

Malfoy stood up, looking lean and healthy in his black, expensive robes. He held out a hand, which Ron stared at with his charmed makeshift vision for a moment before taking in his own. They shook hands briefly and Ron let his hand fall to his side.

"Weasley, good to _see_ you," Malfoy said with a casual air, though his emphasis on the word 'see' was apparent.

"Nice to hear you, _Professor_," Ron replied, trying to pull off a casual voice and sounding rather stiff.

Malfoy grinned maliciously and turned to Hermione. He held out his hand and she grasped it firmly, her brown eyes boring into his grey ones.

"Hello Professor, it's nice to see you." Hermione lied, sounding more confident than she felt.

"And you, Weasley," Malfoy replied, and Hermione was taken aback for a moment.

"Granger, if you please," She said casually.

Malfoy raised his eyebrows in surprise while maintaining his professional appearance. He cocked his head the slightest bit to the side and arched a brow.

"My apologies, Miss Granger," he said calmly, but the look he gave her had the accusation 'Mudblood' written all over it.

Snape rose from his chair and shook each of their hands in turn, sparing them hardly a word.

"Weasley," he acknowledged as he shook Ron's hand and "Granger" as he shook Hermione's.

"Professor," They both said in turn as their hands were grasped.

Snape stepped back, and the quartet eyed each other silently for a moment (Ron merely 'stared' with his jaw set from behind his glasses) before Dean cleared his throat, loking slightly apprehensive.

"Well, let's get down to business, shall we?" Dean said, and they all took seats; Snape and Malfoy across from Ron and Hermione, "Professor Snape, Sir, if you would?"

Snape folded his hands on his lap and opened his mouth to speak, looking slightly bored with his surroundings, and especially with his company.

"We, as in Malfoy and myself," he drawled, "have been working tediously on our project to cure blindness. We believe that we have come up with the right composition after much hard work."

Snape and Malfoy shared a look that Hermione could not identify, but knew it must be an inside joke of sorts.

"With Mister Weasley here as our tester, we'll find out for sure." he finished, and sat back in his chair.

Hermione sat upright more and made sure she was looking Snape in the eyes as she said, "Sir, what happens if this potion doesn't work?"

Snape's lip curled, and Hermione developed a sense of foreboding. Ron must have felt it, too, because he quivered slightly next to Hermione, but she didn't turn to him. Her eyes were glued on Snape's.

"Well," Malfoy interjected, "We suppose death, but we're not sure."

Ron didn't move. He seemed determined not to be afraid, though Hermione could almost feel his heart beating a million times a minute.

"Alright," Ron said in a business voice, "So when do we start?"

Malfoy began shuffling through a stack of papers. He pulled one out and read it to himself, then nodded and placed it back in the pile.

"Tomorrow," he said conclusively, "If we start tomorrow, we might be able to finish by the date. At least, without complications."

He sneered at Ron, who obviously didn't notice, and continued. "The best place to do it would be at your place of dwelling. Weasley would be more comfortable, and we'd be able to get a lot of our work done faster. That is, if we'd be permitted…?"

Ron leaned back in his chair and tried to look at ease. He turned his head towards Hermione and placed his hands behind his head as if he were enjoying a nice, relaxing vacation and not a stressful briefing on a dangerous potion.

"Sounds fine to me," Ron said casually, "What do you think, Hermione?"

Hermione nodded before realizing that Ron could not see her. This was something she did often and was never able to stop doing.

"That sounds… fine." She replied tersely.

Snape rose from his chair and motioned for Malfoy to do so as well. When Malfoy stood, Hermione caught a whiff of his cologne and fought the urge to cough. She stood and tugged Ron's sleeve. They all shook hands (though it would seem that Ron and Snape were trying to break one another's fingers) and departed the building.

When Ron and Hermione arrived at their home, Ron gave a frustrated yell and kicked the fireplace. He grimaced and gingerly stepped on his foot and limped into the bedroom. Hermione followed, looking slightly unnerved. Ron lay down on the bed and covered his face with his hands after throwing his sunglasses aside.

"Those ruddy gits!" he exclaimed, pounding his fists on the bed on either side of him, "Those foul –!"

"Ron!" Hermione cut him off, "You have to be professional about this! They're trying to help you!"

Ron scowled.

"Yeah, help me to my grave! I bet they want me dead, anyway! The evil murderer and his little ferret sidekick." Ron grumbled, rolling over and burying his face in his pillow.

"Oh Ron," Hermione sighed, sitting down on the bed and pushing Ron over onto his back. "Snape's not evil, nor is Malfoy. We cleared them both ages ago."

"Rubbish," Ron snapped, "He killed Dumbledore! If anything says 'evil git' that would be it. I don't trust him. Or Malfoy."

Hermione touched his arm and he turned his head away from her, aggravated.

"Well, you're going to have to try," She said earnestly, "Because they're you're only chance."

He rolled over away from Hermione, agitated because he knew she was right. She was always right, and that was what got him so angry. And yet…

He turned back to face her and could barely make out her outline with his charmed vision. He could tell, however, that she was rather upset with this whole ordeal. He could smell her slight perfume and sense her disturbed feelings. He heaved himself into a sitting position with a grunt and took Hermione's hand. He pulled her over beside him and she sighed as she made herself comfortable. She rested her head on his shoulder and he put an arm around her shoulders.

"You alright?" he asked, kissing her temple in his sheepishly inhibited way.

She sighed and replied, "If you are."

"Then you're not yet," Ron said, "But you will be."

* * *

A/N: There you go!


	5. Here Goes Something

A/N: Oops, it seems as if I forgot this story existed. Dah, sorry.

Disclaimer: I own nothing… especially not Harry Potter

Happy Reading!

* * *

Chapter Five – Here Goes Something

Ron fingered through his book on blindness, occasionally pausing at something that could apply to him. The raised bumps of Braille often fed him interesting information, though he often wished he could actually read a book. He tapped his left-hand fingers against the armrest of the chair he was in while his right-hand fingers zoomed over the text. No matter what he was reading, he couldn't concentrate. He had far too many things on his mind to concentrate on something as silly as a book, though he'd never tell Hermione he thought that. He knew Hermione was sitting on the couch across form him, watching his as he fidgeted in his chair.

"Are you okay, Ron?"

"No."

"Do you want me to get you anything?"

"No."

Hermione sighed and Ron heard her slump lower in her seat. Ron felt terrible for his snooty mood, but he couldn't help it. Not with –

The doorbell rang and Ron jumped, sending his book flying across the room. Hermione stood and wordlessly went to open the door. Ron stood and tried to look nonchalant. He strode coolly into the refrigerator and opened it, raising his wand as he did so.

"_Accio Butterbeer_," Ron murmured, and a Butterbeer soared into his open hand.

He uncapped it and drank deeply, leaning on the refrigerator door as he did so. He stuck his head back inside it for a moment to cool his face, and then closed it. At first, Ron thought electricity and refrigerator's were stupid. After a week, however, Ron found that being blind and refrigerator's mixed rather well. The food was always where he could find it, and it was always cold. No magic necessary, except for the summoning of his food.

"Good day, Weasley."

Ron jumped and accidentally spilled some of his beverage down his front. He squinted from behind his dark sunglasses and was able to faintly recognize three massive blurs which he figured must be Hermione, Malfoy and Snape. Ron coughed slightly.

"Hello," Ron said. "Er, welcome to my humble abode…."

"Let's get down to business, shall we?"

The first voice had been Malfoy's and the second one Ron recognized as Snape's drawl. Hermione stepped forward and nudged Ron. They headed for the sitting room, accompanied by Snape and Malfoy. Ron plopped down into his favorite chair.

"So," He said, examining his nails regardless of the fact that he could no see them. "So what did you have in mind here?"

"Well," Draco said. "Snape and I have made up the procedure, but seeing as you can't see it –"

"Oh gimme that!" Ron said in exasperation, and summoned it out of Malfoy's hand. He tapped the parchment with his wand. "_Blindenschrift Totalus!_ Okay, lemme see here…"

After reading the paper through he handed it to Hermione, who quickly translated it back to English and read it carefully, taking notes in her notebook all the while.

"It says that certain requirements must be met," Ron said.

"True," Replied Snape.

"What requirements must be made, exactly?" Ron asked, leaning back in his chair uncomfortably.

Malfoy cracked his knuckles.

"Well, first off, you must be of age. Seeing as you are, that is not a problem. Another requirement would be for you to be in proper health and all of that, but Healer Thomas tells me you are. Thirdly, you must –"

"You must be cooperative and you must be ready to do as we ask," Snape finished calmly. "And therein lies the problem."

"I'm cooperative," Ron said shortly.

Malfoy snorted.

"I am," Ron insisted. "If you would just stop making derogatory comments whenever I say something, I'd be plenty more helpful."

Hermione looked up from the paper after finishing with it, her brows raised. Ron was really standing up for himself, and this was good to see. She only hoped it wouldn't inflate the wrath of the Potions Masters. She shot a nervous glance towards Snape and Malfoy, neither of which looked angry. Malfoy looked a tad bit surprised while Snape merely looked bored.

The day carried in this manner. By the end of it, Hermione was surprised that nobody had tried to murder anybody else. Ron was very withdrawn from the Potions Masters and let them do as they needed, speaking only when necessary. The process of making the potion was one that took many days. Finally, on the 30th of October, a day before the potion was supposed to be taken, they finished.

Snape pulled off his dragon hide gloves and shot a sidelong glance at Malfoy. His white-blonde hair was plastered to his forehead from leaning over the hot potion all day. Neither of the two men looked, however, disappointed. On the contrary, they looked slightly excited. Hermione, who had watched them for the entirety of the process, couldn't blame them. She herself was feeling very anxious, but excited as well, and she could practically feel the excitement from Ron, who could hardly sit still.

"It is complete," Snape said. "Tomorrow, at precisely nine eleven PM you will take the potion under our supervision. Do _not_ take it beforehand, as the lunar cycle needs to be precise. Do I make myself clear, Weasley?"

"Crystal," replied Ron, tilting his sunglasses slightly. "See you tomorrow, then."

Snape and Malfoy rose in unison and headed for the door.

"Until next time, Weasley. Granger," Malfoy said, and then they were gone.

The door closed and Ron and Hermione sat in silence. Finally Ron spoke.

"Hermione?"

"Yes?"

He took a deep breath and pulled a box out of his pocket. He opened it and exposed a small silver ring, and Hermione gasped.

"Hermione, if I live after this whole potion thing, will you marry me? Blind or not?" Ron asked, ears red.

Hermione crossed the room and sat down on the armrest of the chair Ron was sitting in. She slid down onto Ron's lap and wrapped her arms around his neck. Instinctively, Ron wound his arms around her waist and waited.

"Of course," Hermione said happily, and kissed him.

Ron thought he would go into emotional overload what with the prospect of possible death in the near future, his extra-refined senses and now having a fiancée. They broke apart and he grinned, blushing crimson.

"I hope I live tomorrow."

"I hope you do, too."

Both Ron and Hermione laughed, though with the air of uncertainty, and went to bed. Hermione couldn't help but admire the small diamond ring on her finger, and wondered who had picked it out for Ron, as he couldn't see. She suspected Ginny or Harry, but anyone could have done it. Marrying Ron had always been on her mind, ever since she was young, and now, well, she only hoped that Snape and Malfoy knew what they were doing.

-

Judgment Day arrived on the evening of October 31st. An autumn breeze stirred the leaves in front of Ron and Hermione's house as Snape and Malfoy walked up the front drive, ignoring the strange looks they were receiving from the neighbors for their robes. Mostly the neighbors figured that Malfoy and Snape were two really old trick-or-treaters, but they could not pretend they weren't weirded out. They entered without bothering to knock and found Ron sitting on the settee, looking paler than ever before. Hermione came into the room with a cup of tea on a saucer.

"Good, you're here," Hermione said before crossing the room to Ron.

She handed him the cup of tea, which he promptly spilled on himself because his hands were shaking so badly.

"Are you ready?" Snape asked curtly.

Ron adjusted his glasses.

"I guess so."

"Good."

Snape sat down in front of the cauldron and made sure that the potion was in order. Meanwhile, Malfoy stood with a smirk on his face, watching Ron struggle to remove the stains from his shirt. Snape handed Malfoy a steaming cup of the potion, and Malfoy handed it to Ron.

"Weasley, take this. When I say, you drink it as fast as you can," Malfoy said. Ron nodded and took the glass with a shaking hand. "It will most likely be extremely unpleasant to taste, and must be consumed at exactly 9:11." Malfoy checked his watch. "You have approximately thirty seconds. Good luck."

Ron gulped. Hermione sat down beside Ron and grasped his hand in hers.

"Ten seconds."

"Well," Muttered Ron, preparing to drink. "Here goes… something."

"Ready? Drink!"

Ron tilted back the glass and drank as fast as he could. The second the potion touched his lips, a look of extreme dislike came to his face. He downed the glass and finished it with ten seconds until time ran out. Panting, he held out the glass for somebody else to take, and Hermione took it. She handed it to Malfoy, who was watching Ron with a careful eye, as was Snape.

"Well?" Malfoy snapped. "How do you feel?"

Ron shook his head vigorously and bent over double, his hands clasped over his stomach. Then suddenly, without warning, he crumpled to the ground.

* * *

A/N: Sorry 'bout the cliffy, but it makes the next chapter better. I'm also sorry if you forgot this story existed because of the gap bewteen chapters.The next chapter will also be the last one, so look out for it soon. 


	6. The Grand Finale

A/N: The last chapter, finally.

* * *

Chapter Six – The GrandFinale

The sunlight poured through the open window, sending waved of heat over Ron's body. A cool breeze danced lightly on his skin, giving him goose bumps. He opened his eyes. It was morning. How long he had been asleep, he didn't know, but he was feeling quite groggy.

He placed a hand on his chest to find that it was bare. Ron couldn't remember taking his shirt off. Then again, he couldn't recall putting on the green trousers he was wearing. His eyes widened with realization and his heart jumped. _Green_.

"Holy hell," he said to himself. "I can see. I can _see_!"

He jumped out of bed with the agility of a marathon-runner and studied his reflection. He turned sideways to admire the profile he hadn't seen in years.

"Wow, I look _good_."

He looked down at his hands and studied them with a grin.

"I missed you guys," he said, kissing his hands. "Just wait till Hermione finds out. Wait, where is she, anyway?"

He listened carefully to find where Hermione was, but found he couldn't hear as well as he had been able to before he passed out. He'd forgotten that he only had had super-sensitive senses because one of his senses had failed him. But he didn't care. He could see. Not to mention he didn't need super-hearing to know where Hermione was. The shower was easily heard from where he stood.

Ron ran off towards the bathroom and opened the door like he always did. Only, something was different. There stood Hermione, a towel wrapped around her body and her hair cascading down her back in wet ringlets.

"Hermione, I can see!" Ron exclaimed, and then realized he was looking at Hermione in a towel. His eyes widened. "Bloody hell, I can _see_!"

Hermione, far from feeling the need to cover herself up, felt her face break out into a smile.

"Ron, that's amazing!" Hermione exclaimed, rushing over to Ron and giving him a one-armed hug, holding up the towel.

He put his hands on her shoulders and held her out at arms length, studying her and taking in every feature.

"Look at you," Ron said. "You're even more beautiful than you were three years ago."

Hermione smiled sheepishly.

"We'll talk in a minute, just let me get dressed," Hermione said, and ushered an ecstatic Ron out of the bathroom.

Minutes later, Hermione emerged, fully dressed. Ron was pacing back and fourth in the sitting room, so full of energy that he didn't know what to do with himself. Hermione laughed and ran over to him, throwing her arms around his neck and kissing him.

"How's it feel, Ron? To be able to see again?"

"It's amazing," Ron replied breathlessly, and kissed her again.

Just then, the doorbell rang. Ron ran off to answer it, overjoyed at the prospect of doing something so simple as answering a door. He opened the door after pointedly looking through the eyehole to see who it was.

"I LOVE you, you stupid git!" Ron yelled, and threw himself at the person in the doorway, knocking them both to the ground.

It was Malfoy, who looked distinctly disgruntled about being hugged by Ron. He pushed Ron off of him.

"I'm going to assume that the potion worked," Malfoy said grumpily, clambering to his feet and brushing off his expensive robes. He picked up his bowler and, after wiping the dirt off of it, placed it on his head.

"Yes, it did!"

"In that case, congratulations," Malfoy said, drawing his wand and waving it menacingly in Ron's face. "And if you ever touch me again, I'll blind you back to where you were. Snape sent me to see if the potion worked. Seeing as it has, I shall go."

"Don't you want to have a drink?" Ron asked, too happy about not being blind to hate Malfoy.

"Definitely not," replied Malfoy. "I've spent too much time with you already – your blood-traitoring might rub off on me."

Hermione appeared in the doorway, smiling softly. She strode forward and linked her arm with Ron's. Malfoy turned his back on them.

"Until we meet again," Malfoy said with one last smirk over his shoulder, tipped his bowler, and apparated away.

Hermione and Ron stood in the front yard, not saying anything for a long time.

"He hasn't changed much," Hermione said icily.

"No, and that's a good thing," Ron said. "I don't know what I'd do if Malfoy started being nice. Personally, I think I'd prefer blindness."

Hermione laughed.

"And that's saying something!" she said, laughing.

They turned and began walking back inside.

"Let's have a party," Ron said. "I want to see everyone properly. Then I have to go back to Hogwarts and follow up on that teaching position. Now that I can see, I can do just about anything. Then we should go on vacation and see the sights. Go bird watching. And maybe then we can go sight-seeing. What do you think?"

"I think that's a lovely idea," Hermione replied happily.

The horizon looked a lot brighter from this side of the battle.

-

_FIN_

* * *

A/N: Zomg! It's done! Whoo!

Thanks to everyone for sticking with me through this whole thing. You guys are the coolest.


End file.
